Thursday
by PixieKayGirl
Summary: Just because they're back and he has a new girlfriend doesn't mean the captain and first officer's standing dinners have to end, right? Post-Endgame J/C fluff, a little more than PWP but not by much. Mostly just because I read so many fanfics where they grow apart after their return, she doesn't like Seven anymore, etc. I wanted them to still be friends. (Updated to fix typos.)


_A/N: I wrote this two months ago, but never published it simply because I was trying to find out if their standing dinner date was actually on a Thursday! (What can I say? I'm a stickler for details. Some details, anyway.) I'm currently rewatching the series, but I'm only halfway through and *if* they mention what day of the week it was on, it won't be for at least a couple more seasons. So I decided to just go with Thursday. Hopefully that's correct._

 _If you're following my Lives Resolved story, I swear the next chapter is coming! I just need to finish some editing on it. So here's some other J/C sweetness in the meantime, to tide you over._

 _=/\=_

Kathryn sank onto her couch and deeply inhaled the steam coming from the mug in her hands. Mmm. Coffee, black. Just what she needed to clear her head.

And after today, her head certainly needed clearing. Which seemed strange - not needing clearing, but that it would be today, of all days. When they'd returned to Earth a little over a month earlier, she'd almost expected a harder time than the Delta Quadrant. Starfleet, for all she loved it, wasn't always the most tactful or compassionate place when it came debriefings. She'd expected every decision to be questioned.

She still expected that, in many ways, even though the debriefings were officially done. Finally. But throughout, they'd been treated with kid gloves. She supposed it must have helped that they'd had regular contact for a while already, and had conveyed reports with enough time for them to be dissected and overanalyzed by the top brass while they were still safely a galaxy away. But there was a lot less second-guessing of her decisions than she'd anticipated.

And a lot more time with counselors.

What had really surprised her, though, was her friendship with Chakotay. It was no secret to any of them that for the past couple years their friendship had been a little more strained in many ways. But in other ways it had been richer, stronger, deeper for their having known one another for so long and for all they'd experienced together. Still, back on Earth with families to get reacquainted with, 7 years of debriefings to do . . . and in his case, a new relationship to continue developing . . . well, anyway, she had expected that their friendship might falter.

Instead, he had surprised her, the very first Thursday back, when he caught her elbow on the way out of a debriefing and asked, "Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

She'd felt her eyebrows rapidly approach her hairline of their own accord. "Tonight?" she'd repeated, and then hoped she didn't sound like a complete idiot.

He'd smiled, but pleasantly, not as though he was laughing at her. "Yes, tonight. It _is_ Thursday."

She'd smiled then too. Trust him to come up with such a direct yet circumspect way of telling her that he still valued and wished to continue their standing weekly dinner together, even though they weren't on the ship anymore. "So it is. Your place or mine?" It was almost a pointless question. Their assigned temporary apartments were next door to each other. In that way they were closer than ever. Even on the ship, their quarters had been on different decks, in the infinite wisdom of whomever decided to design a ship with captain's quarters on a completely different deck from anyone else's.

But he didn't hesitate. "Mine. I have a few recipes I'd like to try on you now that we're back where we can actually get the proper ingredients."

She tried to sound casual and hoped he didn't catch the edge in her voice as she asked, "Will Seven be joining us?"

A funny look crossed his face for half a second - pain? regret? chagrin? - but it was gone the next moment, reverted to those warm eyes and comforting dimples. "No, maybe another time if you want her to, but she's going to visit her aunt tonight."

Today was the fifth Thursday. Seven hadn't once joined their dinner. Kathryn was okay with that, and if she wasn't just imagining it, Chakotay seemed okay with it too. Over their dinners, she had listened to him talk about his reunion with his sister and meeting his niblings, she had talked about her reunion with her mother, and her own sister and niblings. They had talked about anything and everything: things they were happy to see again on Earth, things that weren't as good as they'd remembered, things they missed from the Delta Quadrant. Anything except his new relationship.

After the first dinner, she'd started mentally preparing herself for talking about Seven at some future time. In case he wanted to discuss his relationship, in case he wanted advice . . . just in case there was any reason at all, she wanted to be mentally prepared.

But somehow, Seven never came up. She wasn't present at their dinners physically or otherwise. So by today, Kathryn had relaxed her guard. Bad day for it. Then again, it probably didn't matter. _Nothing_ would have prepared her for today.

Today had been the last day of debriefings. Most of the crew had been allowed to leave on "not mandatory but highly encouraged and if not you'll have to spend more time seeing counselors" leaves of absence after the first week. No one was allowed to turn in a resignation until after their 3-month leave was up, not even the former Maquis, so they could fully regroup and get used to being back on Earth before making major life decisions. The rest of the senior staff had been kept until within the past week. Only Janeway, Chakotay, and Tuvok were kept longer. Tuvok had been allowed to leave yesterday, sent immediately to Vulcan to be treated for his neurodegenerative disease. The fact that he'd been kept from treatments so long had upset Kathryn, but he had, in his infuriatingly logical way, simply said, "I have told you, Captain, it will be several years before it becomes too late to seek treatment. A month longer will not have significant impact on my recovery."

So today, the last day, had been just Kathryn and Chakotay, finishing up a few things with the admirals. And that was fine. It was well and good, and surprisingly informal and comfortable. Until near the end, when they were basically done and were really just milling about and chatting. Chakotay had ended up in a conversation with Admiral Nechayev, and was shooting Kathryn "help me!" expressions. Kathryn, for her part, was rather enjoying watching the man try not to squirm under Nechayev's steady gaze. She'd struck up a conversation with Admiral Paris, and somewhere along the way, half-jokingly mentioned, "I'm surprised things went as easily as they did. I'd expected a lot more fuss and second-guessing our years out there."

Admiral Paris had chuckled a little, but his answer was serious. "Actually, Kathryn, 7 years ago we thought we'd lost you all. For 4 years we thought you were all dead. Three and a half years ago, we learned that you were still alive, but so far away we didn't know if we'd ever see you again. A little over a month ago, you suddenly appeared, with gigaquads of data on technology and species we'd never heard of, having dealt a crippling blow to a mortal enemy on your way home. To be honest, you could probably have done a lot more against regulations and still not faced charges for it." He leaned it conspiratorially. "But don't tell Admiral Nechayev I said so."

Kathryn laughed. "Of course not."

But Admiral Paris's expression had changed then, reminding her rather of her father in tender moments. "You know, though, Katie, you could have taken care of yourself a bit more in those years."

She'd given a wry smile. "Now you sound like Chakotay. And the Doctor, for that matter. They were always after me to take better care of myself."

He'd smiled a little at that. "You do tend to be excessively work-focused. It's one of your strengths and one of your weaknesses. But I don't mean how you ate or slept - I'm sure there were plenty of others to worry about those things for you. I mean your personal self. Your personal life." He shrugged a little, and she thought he seemed a bit uncomfortable, but farbeit from the Admiral to break eye contact or willingly reveal any discomfort. "I mean personal relationships. I mean you could have . . . ." He glanced at Chakotay, then back at Kathryn, so quickly she almost wasn't sure she'd seen it. "You could have pursued a relationship with someone directly in your chain of command, and I guarantee no one here would have begrudged you that chance. We understand that you were in a unique situation. And really, there are recommendations against it, but no hard and fast rules."

Remembering the conversation from the safety of her apartment that evening, Kathryn had no idea how she'd responded. She just knew that she'd been flustered but tried to retain control of herself, hoped that she had said something that made sense, and then she and Chakotay had finally been excused from the room, and left to go shopping. Together. Because they were friends and it was Thursday and he was cooking for her again tonight. No other reason.

And it was while they were at the farmer's market that she ran into Mark. She and Chakotay had been joking around about a fruit - no specific joke, but just being silly. Something that had made them both laugh uproariously but later neither of them could recall. The laughter had made her suddenly aware of how much she needed to use the bathroom. She excused herself, still laughing, walked around a corner in the direction of the public restroom, and almost walked right into Mark coming the other way.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him since they'd been back. Even though they'd each moved on in their various ways, he'd still come when the close families and friends came, to reconnect. Still, she hadn't expected to run into him here - and almost literally!

"How are you?" she'd asked, as comfortably as she could.

He'd smiled. "I'm doing well, Kath. And you?"

"Great! Finally just finished the debriefings today so I'm looking at three months of leave now. They're talking admiralty after that."

"That's great."

They'd smiled awkwardly for a moment before she asked, "And your wife? Your baby? How are they?"

"They're great! Really great." He'd shifted for a moment, clearly wanting to say something else but unwilling to. Her need for the bathroom was still rather pressing, so she was about to excuse herself and give him an easy out when he suddenly blurted out, "Do you love him?"

She'd blinked several times. "Do I love . . . who?"

He jerked his head in the direction of the farmer's market, and she looked over to see Chakotay, clearly visible. Of course. He'd seen her with him and assumed. "Oh, Mark, no, we're just good friends."

Mark had shifted again, ran a hand through his silver hair nervously, and let out a puff of air. "I'm afraid that came out wrong. I'm not jealous. I mean, I'm the one who gave up on you and got married first so I sure don't have a right to be jealous! I just want you to be happy. I saw you two together at the reception, and just now - I promise I wasn't trying to watch you, but I just was coming this way and noticed you two and you just look so good together. So comfortable. So . . . so much more than what we ever were. And I'm so happy with my wife, and I just want the same for you."

Kathryn's head was just about reeling at this point. She tried to shrug it off. "He's . . . he's my best friend, Mark. He's my . . . I don't know what. He was my first officer and closest confidant for 7 years. We've certainly seen one another at higher bests and deeper worsts than most people ever experience in their lives. That will bring a certain amount of closeness. But we're nothing more than that."

Mark's eyes had searched hers, then he gave a faint smile. "But you want to be."

"He has a girlfriend." She'd blurted the words out almost before she'd thought them.

Mark had blinked then. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, Kath." He gave her a hug. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to press. I really do want you to be happy and I'd just hoped . . . ." He stood awkwardly before her again, and she mentally kicked herself.

"Don't worry. Like I said, he's my best friend. And I am happy!" Her words may have come out a little more forcefully, and possibly a little more forced, than she'd meant them to. "I finally got my crew home. Everyone has a chance to regroup and relax. Trust me, I'm about as happy as I've been in the past 7 years. But if you'll excuse me, right now I really do need to get to that bathroom or I will be significantly less happy."

He'd started a little, not having known where she'd been headed, and then he laughed, gave her one more quick hug, and bade her adieu.

She snapped out of her reveries and came back to herself on her couch, one finger absently trailing circles around the rim of her coffee cup. Dinner had been fine, and had taken her mind off the day's awkward conversations for a little while, but now, alone in her apartment, it was all too easy to obsess over them.

She wished she could talk to Chakotay about them, but somehow that seemed like exactly the thing she _shouldn't_ do. Why had so many people suddenly started ganging up on her about her relationship with Chakotay anyway? Sure, near the beginning they'd had some fun flirtations, but it was never more than that. And as they'd grown from that initial tentative-yet-charged relationship to something deeper and more comfortable, the flirtations had fallen off in favor of a wonderful friendship. They were never going to be more than that. The Admiral had made that clear. He was destined for Seven. And she would love and support them every way she knew how. Just as long as she didn't have to lose her best friend in the process.

She took a sip of her coffee and was surprised to find it lukewarm. How long had she been sitting here? Had she _ever_ sat in the presence of coffee for that long without drinking any? Good grief, she really did need to clear her head.

She rose to go rewarm her mug, but her door chimed before she got there. A glance at the chronometer told her it was after 2200 hours - late for a visitor, and later than she'd realized. "Who is it?" she called.

"Your neighbor," a warm and familiar voice replied.

She smiled. "Come in, Chakotay."

He came in and held up a bag. "We never had dessert," he said with a smile that seemed a little more nervous and shy than she was used to from him.

"Ooh, what'd you bring?"

"Well, I couldn't decide so I went with three different kinds of ice cream, and multiple toppings."

"That's my - friend." She'd almost said "man," then realized how that would sound. She only hoped he hadn't noticed her hesitation.

Within minutes they were both plopped on her couch, sitting comfortably near each other but not quite touching, facing a coffee table splayed over with an array of ice cream containers and toppings, rewarmed coffee for her, and tea for him. There were no bowls in sight, just two spoons that were digging into the various cartons, getting dipped into the toppings or smothered under squirts of them. Occasionally, the two friends would squirt toppings directly into their own or each other's mouths, accompanied with gales of laughter.

"Not that I don't love this," she mumbled around a mouthful of coffee ice cream, fudge sauce, and whipped topping, then swallowed hard before continuing. "But did you really just come over to eat ice cream, or did you want something?"

His eyes flickered slightly at the words "want something," but before she could analyze that or ask why, he said, "Actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"Aww, all day talking at the final debriefing, all evening talking at the farmer's market and then at your place for dinner, and you still want to talk to me more? I'm touched."

The corner of his mouth had twitched only slightly, but he didn't really smile. Her mirth was immediately gone, replaced by genuine concern. "Chakotay? Is something wrong?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something that happened after you left after dinner, actually. Um, I called Seven. She's been spending a lot of time with her aunt in Sweden, you know."

Ah. Here it was. The very day she let her guard down, two people talked to her about her relationship with Chakotay, and now he wanted to talk about his relationship with Seven. That's what she got for letting her guard down. She should know better than to _ever_ do that. So she tried to apply a calm facade, and said simply, "Oh? Do you go visit her out there?"

"Um, I have once or twice, and she's come here a lot more, but that's not what I wanted to say. Actually, when we were talking tonight we . . . we broke up."

Kathryn's guard wasn't sufficient for that. Apparently, her brain wasn't sufficient for that. She just stared blankly for several seconds.

"Kathryn? Are . . . are you okay?"

She shook herself. "No, I'm . . . that's what I'm supposed to ask! Are _you_ okay? I'm so sorry!"

He furrowed his brow and cocked his head. "Are you?"

"Yes, of course! I mean, I know you love her and -"

"Stop." She stopped and blinked at his sudden interruption. "I don't love her, Kathryn. I agreed to some dates in the Delta Quadrant because . . . well, I'll be honest, it was flattering that she asked."

Kathryn's eyes opened wider at that. _She_ asked? She'd always assumed he'd asked her! But she certainly wasn't going to say that now, so she said nothing and let him continue.

"And then for some ridiculous reason, I fought her when she tried to break up with me because the Admiral had said Seven would hurt me." He looked to Kathryn questioningly, apparently wondering if she knew anything about this. She realized after a moment that she should probably answer the unasked question.

"Oh . . . oh, yes. Yes, she said Seven would die three years in the future, in her husband's arms - in your arms."

His own eyes grew wider at that. "Oh. She never told me that part. In that other timeline we got _married?"_ He sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Though I suppose that makes sense. Similar interests mattered less there, where everyone's primary interest was getting home. It makes sense I would have settled for -" He stopped himself and glanced back up at Kathryn's eyes before reverting his gaze to his hands, still clutching his spoon.

"Anyway," he said, "we're not in the Delta Quadrant anymore. We're not in that timeline anymore. In fact, the timeline has changed more than we realized. We're home, and we have other things to pursue and . . . frankly, I don't see pursuing them with someone who's 15 physical years and about 35 emotional years younger than I am. Who shares almost no interests with me, and apparently expects me to 'adapt' to whatever she thinks is interesting."

Kathryn still didn't know what to say. Finally, she just placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, very sincerely, "So you're okay? She didn't hurt you?"

He looked up at her now, grateful. "She didn't hurt me, and to be honest, I don't think I hurt her either. I think we both knew this was destined to end badly and it was better to just stop it now."

She settled back against the couch then, smiling perhaps a little wider than was appropriate in the given situation. "Good. Do you need to talk about it, though? If you need to talk I'm happy to listen, or if you need distraction, we can certainly change the subject too."

He regarded her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, then smiled a little, settled back against the couch as well, and said, "I think I'd like to change the subject."

"Any subject in particular?" She took a big bite of ice cream.

He cleared his throat. "Actually, I was going to tell you -"

"OH!"

She felt him start at her sudden outburst, but couldn't see him because she was busy squeezing her eyes shut against the pain.

"Kathryn, what is it? Are you okay?"

Through her pain she managed a self-deprecating laugh. "You'd think a woman of my age would have figured out by now how to avoid a brainfreeze."

He chuckled then too. "Here, let me help." His hands touched hers, gently moved them away from her head, then the warmth of his palms enveloped her forehead, temples, and eyes, shifting slightly in small circles but mostly just lending their warmth. After several seconds, she relaxed as the pain subsided.

"Thank you," she whispered. His hands slid to the sides of her face, enough so she could open her eyes, but did not let go. The view she saw was his face much closer to hers than she'd expected, looking at her with concern in his eyes and . . . something else. Something she didn't dare hope she was seeing right.

"I was about to say," he continued softly, "that breaking up with Seven wasn't just because she and I are so different, but because my heart belongs to someone else."

"It does?" Emotions tangled within her so rapidly that her emotional capacity almost shut down entirely. Hope that she was the someone else, fear that she wasn't, love for this man she'd grown so close to, terror at the idea of ever losing him for good, and so much more, emotions that she didn't have time to catalog just then, in that brief second before he continued.

"It does. It has for seven years. Since the day I appeared on her bridge, itching for a fight."

She became peripherally aware that she'd brought her hands up to cover his, but gave no thought to the movement or its meaning. Her eyes were searching his, her ears hanging on his every word, her skin reveling in his touch, and nothing else mattered. "It has?"

"It has. It took me a few days at the time to realize it, and a few weeks to admit it to myself. But from that day on, my heart was not my own. And for seven years I fought for her, until just weeks before my fight could be done, I stupidly gave up and tried to settle for something less. And then stupidity and pride kept me from doing anything about it for another five weeks. But now, Kathryn -"

"I fought too," she interrupted, speaking a little too fast.

"You did?"

"In the beginning I was fighting to get my crew home. Somewhere along the way, I realized my heart belonged to someone else too. And I couldn't do anything about it. And over time I realized I wasn't fighting to get my crew home, I was fighting to get home to be with him. And then that fight started to take its toll and . . . and my heart was still his but our friendship was strained so much I didn't know if we could ever get it back. And now that I have my best friend back . . . I don't want to ever be without him. Ever again."

He breathed out slowly, sounding as though he hadn't released his breath the whole time she'd been talking. "Kathryn," he breathed. "Do you think -"

She would never know what he was about to ask. She'd finally decided she couldn't wait any longer to taste those ice cream-sweetened lips. And after seven years of waiting, there was nothing chaste or tentative about that kiss. True to her form when she made up her mind about anything, she dove right in.

Most of a minute later, when then finally broke the kiss to take a breath, she whispered, "And, just to be clear, I'm not just your rebound, right?"

He laughed. "I've loved you far too long for that. If anything, Seven was the rebound."

She grinned. "Just checking." Her mouth found his again, as hungrily as ever.

Sometime during the night, three containers of ice cream turned to liquid, completely forgotten.


End file.
